This Wasteland
by Swordsman-Of-Lorelai
Summary: Roxas has lived along for 6 months in a post-apocalyptic world, and he does what he can to survive. His routine gets interrupted by an open door, and he is forced to face his worst nightmare. AkuRoku.
1. Chapter 1

It was hard to believe that I had spent at least 6 months alone in this waste of a city. Though most of the skyscrapers still touched the sky, many had fallen to rubble, mostly from the shaking of bombings. I couldn't quite count how many times I had felt them myself; I only had ten fingers, after all, and it was hard to commit things to memory without losing track of something else. I leaned my body back against the wall and let my legs fall to the floor. I was exhausted. I had just run out of water about an hour before, but it was impossible to move too much in the sweltering heat without sweating or passing out…

I sat still for about an hour before I decided to keep moving. I needed to get back to my hideout anyway. A month or two after the first bomb hit, I had found a cellar to hide inside. As far as I knew, the bombs were nothing more than that- bombs. Not nuclear. Not anymore dangerous that a heavy piano or a building. I avoided them, but the aftermath was no worse than a hole in the ground. The sun was beating against my back, but I did what I could to hide my face from its rays. The last thing I needed was a sunburn. I rubbed my sleeve against my forehead and stared at it afterward. I could remember the moment I had grabbed the jacket.

After about 12 weeks, I realized things wouldn't be returning to normal- not like the times of "Twilight", at least that's what some strangers had called it. No, it couldn't. Too many people were dead and gone, and too many people were committing crimes of murder and theft, and I wasn't innocent either. It had been a cold night in December, and my lips had started to turn blue. Sitting still in the cellar much longer would have killed me… so I risked the outside world to find something to use as a blanket- anything would do. Trekking through the rubble, I noticed something sticking from beneath the cement blocks. Getting to it had been a task in itself, but dislodging it from the rocks had been even worse. I pulled and pulled and pulled until it finally slipped loose; I felt my heart drop into my stomach instantly. There was still a body inside of the jacket sleeve I had pulled out. Not a whole body; it was missing its legs and a few of the fingers, but it had been enough to jar me and leave me like stone. Long story short, I took the jacket and continued searching (where I found my combat boots and belt, along with a few weapons and other supplies). Scavenging wasn't exactly something I _wanted_ to do, but I wasn't left with too many other options.

The military green color of the jacket was stained with blood and dirt, and I hadn't had a chance to clean it, not at all. One day, I promised myself, one day I'll wash everything. I pushed my sweaty blond hair back as I descended the steps to the cellar, but I froze- the door was open. I always closed and locked the door when I left the cellar. Who the _hell_ …? I pulled the knife from my belt and held it out in front of me as I stepped down the last 2 stairs. After a deep breath, I shoved the door open quickly and raised the knife to fighting level. I looked quickly through the room and found nothing, no one. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and slowly lowered the knife, though I didn't return it to the belt. There was no way I had-

Someone grabbed quickly at my forearm, and I couldn't lift the knife again. My footing was gone in a second, and I was on the floor with a pistol held to my forehead. _Shit. Shit. Shit._ How was I going to get out of this one? I had my eyes shut at first, waiting for the bullet that would surely end my life, but it never came. I cracked one eye open and saw a boy, maybe 2 or 3 years older than me, sweating and panting, his thumb deftly cocking the gun. I tensed, but kept my eyes on him. His red hair was pulled back into a ponytail and his green eyes were staring daggers into mine, his confidence surfacing as he held my arm down into the floor.

"What do you want?" I whispered, trying not to alarm him. He looked as if he'd been sitting in the sun too long. Did he need shade? The boy growled a little and pressed the end of the gun roughly against my forehead, making me flinch and shut my eyes again.

" _Shut up_. I want everything- and I mean, _everything_. You're going to leave, and I'm going to take your stuff, understand?"

 _Sure_ , the words made sense, but I couldn't let him. I couldn't let him take my food and my blankets and my books; I would die if I left without these things, and I would die if I fought back, so I decided to do the latter. I used my free hand to roughly shove the barrel away from my head, the metal and force scraping the skin off my forehead. I tackled the other boy as roughly as possible, bringing my knife as close as I could. I pushed hard with both hands, but he was clearly stronger than me, and he lifted the gun again and pressed it against my chest. I had him straddled by his stomach, the blood and sweat dripping off my forehead. It wasn't until that moment, suspended above the redhead, that I realized I was crying. Sweat, blood, tears…

I saw his finger start to move on trigger, and I pulled in the sharpest breath I had ever felt enter my body, a scream erupting a moment later to try and assist my knife. But nothing happened. I looked down quickly and stopped in surprise, the redhead staring back at me. There was a moment of nothing, our panting breaths the only noise in the room, but then he shoved me up with forearms. I was slammed back into the floor, the air quickly escaping my lungs. There was nothing else I could do as he wrestled the knife from my hands. I felt the cuts sink into my arms and fingers as we fought one another for possession, but his hands ended up on my throat, the knife across the room and out of reach. He didn't press or injure me, but he was clearly the stronger one.

"Now what? Are you going to kill me-"

"Thought about it, but I'm not really interested in having blood on my hands today—"

"Oh, _today?_ So I can schedule for tomorrow then?" I snapped back, my eyes staying on his. Was he afraid to kill me? I wasn't afraid to kill, but I didn't want to. I had been fully prepared to sink that knife into this guy without a second thought, but he had brought an empty gun and had thrown the knife; he definitely didn't want to kill me. I saw his eyebrow raise and a smirk fall onto his lips, his breath coming back to him while I still struggled for my own.

"No schedule, honey. Day to day, you know how it goes. Now, choices for you; do you want to get up and leave or sit here until you pass out from dehydration?" What? Did he know-

"Have you been watching me?"


	2. Chapter 2

I could feel myself losing track of the seconds, but his eyes still bore into mine. I saw his eyes flit around the room once, but they returned immediately. "Watching you? Don't _flatter_ yourself," he grunted, still struggling to hold my body down; I couldn't just stop fighting- I needed to get out of this… somehow.

"Flattery will get me nowhere, right? I can't… _really_ trust you," I hissed, my hands finding a place tight against his wrists, pushing back as best I could. His body didn't move an inch, but I kept his palms from pressing into my throat. His hands were sweaty, the same as my own. Hands were slipping against one another, sweat becoming more of a lubricant than a nervous reaction. His palm punched into my collarbone at one point, but I couldn't stop resisting.

"If we _stop-_ fuck… _fighting_ , we could actually- damn it! Stop moving!" he shouted, his knees starting to press into my sides. I winced from the pressure but continued to wiggle myself. "Seriously, dude! Stop messing around."

There was a quick movement, a shift of limbs, and an exchange of heated curses, but I found myself pressed into the floor, chest pressed into the dust covered floor. My arm was bent back behind me, his hand pressing my forearm roughly into my lower back. I couldn't fight anymore, the sweat dripping off my forehead and onto the floor. It felt like he was barely even trying anymore. There was no way that I could keep up anymore. "Okay, okay… I give up. What do you want? I don't have anything to give you… I swear…" This guy could take whatever he wanted, if I could survive this. That knife was somewhere, and if he wanted to, he could end everything.

My thoughts began to wander. What was the point in living in this hell hole? Every single day was a battle to keep hydrated, to keep food in my stomach, to keep from getting sunburned. There was no reason to keep fighting. The doubt bubbled inside me. There was no way that this city would ever return to its original state, no way that we could all be united again. After being held at gun point more than once, I didn't believe in myself to ever trust another person again. It just wasn't going to happen, not after everything I had gone through.

"I want your things. But I want your help."

"Help? Help with dying? That's all I happen to be good-"

"Hello, boys. A bit of a scuffle?" a woman's voice called out. I froze and tried to look for a shadow on the floor. There was someone new here… in my house. "Too bad. I was hoping that you would have killed each other by now." There was something odd about her tone of voice, something oddly sweet yet… menacing. "Both you- well- I guess the redhead- _lay on the floor_ , hands in front of you." I could hear the pumping of a shotgun, that familiar click and pop. No, no, no. This couldn't get any worse.

"Okay, okay. We play your way," the boy replied, moving beside me and lying flat on his stomach, hands stretched out in front of him. What could I do? I needed out of this… somehow. "So what now? Going to shoot us?" _Shut up_. I took a deep breath and dared a look up toward her. What was the worst that could happen? I had already accepted that fact that I was going to do doing this. A blond stood in the door way, a shotgun pressed to her shoulder, aimed straight between the two of us. She had the most wicked smile on her face.

"Maybe, maybe not. I guess Lex will decide for us. Lex!" Who the hell was Lex? My hands were starting to shake. Death. Death was definitely cutting my final string. Definitely.

"Psst. Hey, you," the redhead whispered quickly, his eyes turning to me as I looked over. I saw the greens of his eyes, clear as daylight. "I think we should run for it." Was he insane? That girl already had her shotgun pointed at us, ready to shoot.

"Are you crazy? We'll die."

"We'll die if we don't." Was he reading my mind? I had thought the same thing just minutes ago.

"I don't really-"

"Did you find them?" a man's voice said calmly. It was one of the deepest voices I had ever heard. I looked up again, a large man walking down the steps to join the blond. She let out a shrill laugh, her shotgun moving up to rest the neck against her shoulder. The man's steely eyes turned to me, and all I could muster up was enough courage to stare back. "It seems you did. The small one- he's been looking for water."

"Yes, he has! We saw him filling water bottles the other day. Looks like he's all tapped out though. Been running on empty since last night," she explained. That much was true. My mouth was dry, my body tired and hot. I couldn't find water at the usual spring I visited. The man looked once more at me before looking back to the woman beside him. I took a deep breath before looking back to the floor.

"Now or never, kid," the boy beside me reminded, looking at me desperately. I shook my head again, but he shook his back at me. He jumped up from the floor, and it was all I could do to follow suit. I hopped up as quickly as I could, using my hands to push myself up off the floor and into a running motion. I watched that shotgun come back into aim, but the redhead was there before she could center. He shoved her up and back, her body falling back into the stairs. I hopped up and over as best I could, nearly tripping on the shotgun in her hands. The redhead caught my elbow and jerked me back up, the two of us running from the room, from my home, as quick as possible. I could hear her loud, high-pitched scream, the reset of that shotgun. Before I could think, the other boy grabbed my arm and jerked me around a corner.

The loud sound of her shotgun sounded just down the street. Where were we going to go? I continued to move, continued to force… but I was losing energy quickly. I couldn't go a whole lot farther. When my pace slowed, the boy took my arm and dragged me along behind him. There was something heavy pushing against my brain. There was a feeling of… nausea, of exhaustion. I couldn't keep this up.

"We… we need to stop," I panted, my legs wobbling under his fast running pace. He turned to me, an almost angry look in his eyes. What was his problem?

He let go and came to a stop, my body immediately doubling over. I couldn't stop the gag coming, the overall feeling of sick. I grabbed my hood and slipped it on over my head, looking around for some shade. There wasn't much, but I crouched underneath a concrete overhang, made from a completely destroyed building. Without much energy left, I collapsed to the ground, pulling as much of myself as possible into the shade. The heat was starting to get to me; actually, it was more than getting to me. The heat was burning into my bones, boiling my blood. I was dripping more sweat than I ever thought possible, soaking my shirt and my ripped up hoodie.

"Hey… are you-"

"No… no, I'm not okay… She wasn't kidding. I really… really don't have any water," I explained, trying my best to not sound raspy or short of breath. But that was hard when my mouth was as dry as dirt.

"I thought… Here, take this for now," he said, handing me a bottle. Water? I stared at him, not taking the water just yet.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Take the damn water, and we'll talk about it after, okay? Don't need you to die out here after that scene." He pushed the water forward into my chest, forcing me to take the bottle from his hands. I couldn't say no anymore.

My hands struggled to get the bottle open, but I immediately began to swish water around my mouth, swallowing small amounts at a time. I didn't want to throw it back up. After a few minutes of slow drinking, I sat back and wiped my sleeve across my forehead. Now I would owe this fool a favor… or ten. The water was my saving grace. We sat quietly, the redhead posting up beside me, standing guard or simply standing… it didn't matter. I glanced at him once before looking up and down the street again. I hadn't travelled very far in this direction.

"There's a food storage out here… the last time I checked-"

"Shut up for a second. You're telling me you've been out here, right? More than once." His gaze was so serious, and I was thrown for a loop. Well, yeah, but I couldn't tell him, all I could do was nod. "I want your help. No, you're going to help me. There's someone I'm looking for." A person? I started to shake my head, wanting to explain that I really hadn't seen _people_ ; in fact, I avoided people as much as possible, but he furrowed his brows and snatched the water from my hands. I reached for it back, but he attached it back to his belt. "I said you're going to help me. I helped you; you _owe_ me."

"I'm telling you now- I don't look for people. I don't go anywhere near other human beings. You saw why. **You** are why."

"I'm looking for a girl. She's about as tall as you, black hair-"

"I already told you-"

"I'm not asking if you've seen her. I'm telling you that you're going to help me find her."


End file.
